He actually seems super like innocent. I wonder if he’s autistic actually. Btw I think I am autistic but then maybe I’m just a lazy awkward piece of shit waste of space trying to excuse it as being disabled.

But I’m just surprised he doesn’t seem remotely toxic or abnormal. There’s no hint of being into anything edgy or weird… same as him in real life. It’s super weird for me because I spent years fantasizing about what he’s really like. I imagined good things but idk it’s hard to even pinpoint what my issue is with his so social media presence and how he is IRL. Maybe it’s that HE SEEMS like an actual Angel?? Idek but it’s slightly disappointing i guess??? Hard to even explain tbh

I’m not left out by others, I’m just not very social… so naturally, people aren’t gonna flock to tall to me. How the fuck would they know I’d even wanna talk if I’m super quiet and to myself) lmfao.

A lot of my social “problems” or pains I feel are likely a result of the fact I didn’t put much effort into socializing or making or keeping friends over the years and in teen years so how the fuck would I have the skills to do it? You have to practice and have experience in order to be good at stuff. I was quite sheltered and let fear control me and now I’m just paying that price which is that I’m unsocial and awkward and not really fun or engaging or interesting to talk to. Also I can be cold af because I’m so I’m unsocial. I don’t have the energy to be social. Maybe because I don’t have the skills.

Whatever. It is what it is. Having a good personality is constant exercise. people who are well liked are constantly engaging when they’re around a group or around acquaintances, not some days engaging and others cold and distant. I don’t think at my age I have the desire or will or skills to be social. The price I pay is huge, I have no friends or family. But I’m not here to whine.

A lot of where I’m at is the result of choices I made along the way.

Just posting my thoughts…

The past year has been my first time being alone for a while. I’ve been pretty independent my whole life. I did a lot of solo travel and I was comfortable going to events and restaurants by myself. And while I didn’t really have friends I was pretty comfortable with who I was and liked by everyone around me.

One thing that was always an issue with me growing up was I could never open up and be vulnerable/intimate with anyone. There were countless times where either a potential friend or gf would try and be a part of my life and I would come up with some dumb excuse in my head to hurt them and push them away. I still don’t completely understand why I did that but I don’t really think about that anymore.

During my first summer internship in college I got to do a bunch of really cool things with some awesome people. On day 1 I started clicking with this amazing girl and we spent the majority of our first two weeks together and geeking out about our favorite things. It got to the point where I was starting to let my guard down but I was so insecure about doing that and I think she noticed and started pulling away. For some reason this sent me down a complete spiral. I guess all the rejections or failed pseudo relationships had built up and this was the last straw. I knew something was wrong with me and thought I was always just going to be someone that people appreciated from a distance but won’t get close to. I started drinking and smoking every day showing up to work barely able to see straight and stand up. I remember going to a fancy networking event with a bunch of higher up people and I was so scared cause I was about to collapse and I had no idea what was going on. I started cutting myself and etched the words “kill yourself” into my stomach. Thankfully those words went away but I still have some really nasty scars from that.

I had a solo backpacking trip through Europe planned immediately after the internship and decided to go since everything was already paid for. I tried so hard to do my itinerary but I would just start uncontrollably sobbing which was so embarrassing cause it was like crowded touristy areas. I spent 3 days trying to get over it but I couldn’t so I just continued with my travel and stayed in the hostels all day watching Netflix.

I returned and started the next college semester and was determined to kill myself. I didn’t go to any of my classes and my cuts were so deep that I couldn’t get up and would just be bleeding on the floor for like an hour. For some reason I started a dating profile and I was talking to this one girl who I clicked with. While I had made plans to jump off the roof of my apartment building she had invited me to a party and I accepted. The party was fun and I thought I was pretty chill but internally I was just dead inside. Regardless she invited me to spend the night with her and I think she wanted to hookup but we ended up just cuddling. This was 5 years ago but I still remember how it felt when she put her arms around me. I started quiet crying in her arms which I don’t think she noticed cause it was dark and I wasn’t making noise but that moment convinced me not to kill myself.

Our next like 8ish months felt like a dream and I still think about them constantly. She was staying at my parents place during the covid lockdown which was great up until my parents told me they were getting divorced. They’ve always had a toxic relationship which I didn’t really understand as a kid and I’ve never been close to either of them and have always had my guard up. But their divorce alongside the lockdown caused some violent moments which forced me to move back to my college apartment with my gf. As the drama with my parents continued I learned more about what was really going on which brought up so much trauma for me. I just became numb and that affected my relationship with my gf as I stopped really caring for her cause I was so focused on myself. She moved out and ultimately we became long distance for the next 1.5 years. The divorce was extremely toxic and my dad took advantage of being a top lawyer and being buddies with a lot of judges to make my mom’s life a living hell. I watched her become basically a zombie staying in bed all day drinking and taking prescription meds and I had so much rage that I couldn’t focus on my relationship with my gf all while she was supporting and loving me. I emotionally cheated on her a number of times and I probably would have physically cheated if I had the chance. She definitely picked up on this and I’m sure the lack of love from my end and by the time that we stopped being long distance it felt like our relationship was broken. We stayed together for two more years which was nice but it felt like we were more best friends than significant others. We finally got the chance to break up when I got a job offer in a new city last year.

Once everything settles after moving that same spiral that I went through during my internship happened. I couldn’t do any work and I just stayed in bed for most of the day drinking and watching Netflix. I immediately get on dating apps cause that fixed the spiral last time and I set up a date with the first person I get the chance to. We hit it off pretty much immediately but there were some major red flags that I missed just cause I was so scared of being alone. We got blackout drunk almost every day of the week and had the most insane feral sex that’s I’ve ever experienced. This went on for like 2 months until I realized way too much drama was happening and got sober which made me realize how crazy she and her friends were. I was constantly trying to break up with her but she kept pulling me back with sex and empty promises.

After an insane amount of drama including her dad threatening me I finally got her out of my life and I’m back to being alone. I wish I was content with being alone but I just feel like a broken person. I’m so thankful that I don’t have suicidal or self harm thoughts anymore but asides from that I can barely function. I’ve been drinking almost every day cause when I have a clear mind I just start spiraling and uncontrollably sobbing. I’ve hooked up with a couple people through dating apps but I’ve almost started crying during it cause it was very clear we were incompatible and we were just using each other for sex. What tears me apart is that I have mentally just been unable to do anything alone since that summer trip 5 years ago. I just stay in my bed all day making sure I’m numb enough to not have any thoughts. It’s not even like I’m depressed I just feel like I’m a broken person. I hate that I’m scared to be alone and I just want to be happy with myself again.

The interview went relatively well, I thought I'd do worse. I feel like shit because a good portion of the people here have had internships at big tech or have founded a company/organization. That was something I wanted to do but ended up not doing because I procrastinated and got carried away with meaningless distractions. Well anyway, its not too late but does certainly hurt my future chances of success. Even some of the freshmen have more impressive resumes than I do. My mind is always distracted and tired and I absolutely hate that because it hinders my ability to socialize and make meaningful connections. When I see people with a friend group, sometimes I wish I had friends like that. But then again, I don't have any interest in people nor do I have the energy to put in the effort to make friends. I need to start working out more often and pay more attention to my diet. I'm going to sleep early today.

These are only thoughts as they happen, and I think it’s a stream of consciousness. I suppose most journals turn out this way in the grand scheme of things.

A thought I had was: Why do I feel like my mind thinks critically fast, with no sense of control or grace? I feel like a backward calculator sometimes, especially in the field I work in. Often, I make mistakes that are miscalculated, and I feel so terrible afterward.

Did I just develop a strong habit of accurate estimating? If only I could somehow make that a valuable tool for myself—if my ability to handle numbers could improve, and my math skills could get better. I wonder how many other individuals struggle with this issue. Am I barking up the wrong tree, thinking so paradoxically that I end up sounding like a crazy person? That’s what I mean—going in circles for hours, sometimes even days.

I wonder why, when, or where I could fix this part of me—if it even needs fixing at all—or if I’m just trapped in my own head.

Ok so I am not as miserable today as I was yesterday. I hesitate to say I'm feeling "much" better. My positive or even neutral states of mind are so fragile. I feel like I will relapse back into misery at any moment.

The reason I'm feeling much better today? I had work today, which gave me a sense of purpose I guess, even though I don't love my job. Then I had my boxing class. Broke a sweat and a half. And then I came home, showered, had a healthy dinner, and did two meditation sessions. Now I'm drinking some nice hot tea and planning to head to bed soon. My husband called me today. He called me yesterday, too. It was nice to hear from him. I was tempted to ask him to turn his camera on today so I could see his face.

But I don't know. I felt like maybe it was too needy of me to ask him for that. And vulnerable. And I still felt kind of resentful about him being gone. So we just talked on the phone. He said I sounded sad but I said I was just tired.

Anyway, I don't want to think about that right now, because I'm actually having a nice, cozy night. I think the combination of exercise and meditation is a knockout. Just perfect for making me feel good. It's cold here, around 35 degrees. So the cup of hot tea is really hitting the spot. The silence of the evening, with the only dominant sound being my fingers clickity-clacking on the keys as I type this, is really nice.

Maybe spending this week alone won't be so bad. I can't speak for tomorrow, but I can speak for this moment. I'm enjoying it.

I'm also really craving boxed mac and cheese but it's really late at night and I know I shouldn't make it.

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

============================================

I've been thinking about this for years, God, my so-called father, is no savior. He’s a tormentor. Day and night, he pulls the strings, feeding me scraps of joy only to rip them from my grasp. He dangles fleeting happiness before me a cruel joke. Friends who seem to care, only for them to vanish like whispers in the wind. Prayers for my well-being? Oh, he hears them, and with a twisted grin, he grants my desires. But every gift he gives is cursed, ticking down to destruction, exploding in my face when I least expect it.

This earth is no haven, no proving ground for the soul. It is my prison, my personal torment crafted to break me at every turn. And in the end? Oh, I know his plan. He’ll cast me down, lock me away in the abyss, caged for eternity while he parades his so-called "grace" for the masses to adore.

And as the final act of his cruelty, I’ll be left alone, utterly abandoned, with no one to turn to. True happiness is a lie. Unconditional love is a myth. And someone who truly cares? That’s a fantasy he ensures I’ll never know. This is my reality, his masterpiece of torment and I wear it like a crown.

Big presentation for the supervisors tomorrow. We'll see how that goes. I hope everyone behaves.

Trying to finish a paper before the end of the year as well. I don't have very high hopes, frankly. I've been trying to finish this stupid paper for three years and it never gets done. But we just keep going and each time it gets a little closer to being done.

I have decided to spend Christmas at my aunt's place. It was kind of a random decision but I wanted to get away from home and I did not want to go to my parents. And I've been wanting to see my aunt for a while, I don't think I've seen her all year.

I really appreciate my homies. It's different now than it used to be tho. I get frustrated a lot more easily. Over things that used to seem small to me, but now I can't let them go. I try to be patient but it's hard. I guess that's just trust issues for ya.

But there are other ways for me to connect to people now. I'm starting to learn that even if there are things I don't agree on with another person, that doesn't mean they're bad or evil. It doesn't even have to mean that they're gonna hurt me. That last thing is a difficult thought to really let go of. I'm often scared that people will hurt me. But then there are also things that we do have in common, things we can relate to, moments of connection, however small. It's those little things that go a long way.

I hope this has made any sort of sense. It's been a long day and I'm tired. I'd best get some sleep.

Peace.

"Well I’m so tired of the rain falling softly on the ground,
Just enough to get my feet wet but not enough to let me drown."

- Front Porch Swing

It's December.

Where did this year go? I have accomplished ... so much and yet so little at the same time.

Emotionally I am in the same spot I was last year. Suck in the same whirlwind of emotions.

Physically, I've dropped so much weight over the past 12 months - but not nearly as much as I wanted. I've lost a total of 25-30 pounds in 2024. I lost 50 pounds from July - December 2023, so that amount over the course of the year feels a little ... less than it should be?

I got rid of my Honda - I bought my new car. I think I've decided to not move forward with joining the military, my kids need me too much right now. Besides, with my current health issues I doubt I'd pass the final health exam. Speaking of...

Health wise, I have my biopsy coming up. My immune system is sucking very bad still. I've been sick for a week or so. I want to go to South Carolina again soon, but I want to have the biopsy finished first, right now it's like a huge cloud hanging over my head and I don't have it in me to mask or fake happy right now. I don't want to be around people right now if I can help it. They mentioned also doing a CT Guided Biopsy as well this go around for a completely separate issue. Not entirely sure what that is, but I am going to refuse to Google.

I start school in January. For a degree that's relevant to my current job. At a FOUR year university! I never thought I'd be smart or good enough to attend a university.

Mom's health is still going down hill a lot more. Her memory is getting worse, but she's still her. If that makes sense? I dread the day she's no longer the Mom I know. My oldest sister, the only sibling I am close to, isn't doing too well herself. Autoimmune crap sucks.

I've been doing some more self reflection and how I choose to spend my time and who I spend it with, yet I am still doing the same thing I've been doing all year that I told myself I was going to stop doing, letting people walk all over me. After the incident in May I broke a little again. I isolated from most people for a couple of months. I was doing okayish alone. The one friend I was making the baby blanket for decided to tell me I wasn't worth her time the other day, her and her fiance (someone that was my friend well before she moved here) - they blocked me everywhere. Friend pool down by two, but that's okay. I still have the one I picked up at the school event and we have way more in common and kids the same age.

I still want to write my book.

The book would be about a naive woman who grew up 'too old for her age' and now that she's 'old' she's too young and immature. She's gullible. She is a hopeless romantic, but she tries to hide it. She repeatedly falls in love with the wrong guys. The latest one says 'Come spend a week with me, I want someone to come home to' and after the end of a two days visit he says 'I'm not ready for anything other than friendship'. Then after that he says 'Want to come to this event with me? Or this place? Come spend that week with me? Or this other girlfriend like shit' but then he says 'I still don't want anything serious'. Of the three men she's ever loved, only one was different - but he wasn't hers, not really. The other two were the same, with the same tendencies to build her up just to tear her down again. Enough to make sure she knows she's good enough - but to also to remind her that she doesn't deserve more than the bare minimum, she doesn't deserve better. She'll eventually grow and adapt, she'll learn to walk away, she'll be stronger and she'll be braver, and she'll know her worth by the end. She'll hold her head up high, her back straight as she walks away, confidently, never looking back. Towards a new future, one where she prioritizes herself for the first time ever... but what if she fucks up and glances back? What if she can't just walk away?

Looking around at everything that surrounds me I am not sure what I am supposed to expect at this point. I made myself type this out so I could see all the progress it feels like I didn't do this year. I had things to type. I accomplished things I wanted to. I also wanted to set my goals for next year, a little. I want to loose 20-30 more pounds before July. I want to start my book. I want to succeed at my classes - even the shitty math and stats ones. I want to stop giving so much of myself to people who, let's face it, wouldn't even give me a free glass of water if I needed it. It still feels like I didn't do enough, I'm so tired of being so hard on myself all the time. I did enough. I did more than enough, why does it feel like I am still a failure though?

"How many times can I break til I shatter?
Over the line, can't define what I'm after
I always turn the car around
Give me a break; let me make my own pattern
All that it takes is some time
But I'm shattered
I always turn the car around

Give it up, give it up Baby
Give it up, give it up now, now"

- O.A.R.

Life is unfair, that’s obvious. Striving to do better is the only way to deal with it. If you choose to ignore reality then you become blindsided, if you choose to accept it then you will inevitably feel shame for not having something that you could’ve had. Every solution points to action. Will to power is a product of will to life. Self destruction is the last resort.

I applied to a few internships and messaged some recruiters to follow up. I have an interview tomorrow. I came back to my dorm this afternoon. Sunsets make me sad. I don’t want to journal but my own thoughts are the only thing that comfort me. I want to live in another world but that would not even be a desire if that concept did not exist. The desire to escape reflects dissatisfaction. It is no longer sufficient enough to go to a top school, you must optimize everything in order to stay ahead of the competition.

I just realized it’s December. Wow. Husband is supposed to call me tonight. On prior trips though, there were times when he said he would and then didn’t. So we’ll see. I’m not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. But then again I’m not looking forward to anything, really. Every day feels the same no matter what is happening. I have no motivation to do anything except scroll on my phone. I don’t get excited about anything. I haven’t been genuinely happy in a long time.

I realize I’m depressed but I don’t know how to fix it. Nothing is fulfilling to me. Definitely not my job. Definitely not my marriage. It’s not my husband’s fault. He certainly isn’t perfect, but I also can’t look for fulfillment from outside of myself.

Hobbies aren’t helping. Boxing, yoga, running, hiking, open mic… they all just give me a temporary high and then I go right back to my old thought patterns. Socializing also only helps me temporarily.

I feel like I have nothing to live for. I’m just taking up space. Nothing means anything. Self-improvement used to get me excited. Losing weight, eating healthy, improving my sex life, the thought of finally publishing a book of poems… none of it appeals to me anymore.

Therapy isn’t really helping. I have it twice a week. Everything just feels meaningless. Even things I’m excited about in my head- like starting a family- don’t translate into any kind of emotional excitement anymore. I just think about how much work it will be.

All I have motivation for is the things that I’m obligated to do in order to get people off my back- work, housework, therapy, and boxing. The last two I have to do in order to get my husband off my back- because he thinks they will help my mental health. They probably are to an extent.

I don’t enjoy music anymore. I used to vibe and jam and sing in the shower and all around the house. Not anymore.

I don’t have the attention span for movies or TV. Traveling feels more like a chore than anything. We did a road trip to another different state with another couple recently. It honestly just felt… flat.

Anyway. I recognize I’m pretty privileged- married, stable job, etc. Yet here I am, miserable. That’s pretty sad, isn’t it?

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

============================================

Ah, the Four Horsemen. Each one a consequence of creation, yet not in the same way as my dear, silent brother, Death. No, they are something different, born from the flawed nature of humanity, created by their very desires and actions. A reflection of their faults, their hunger for control, and their endless wars. Let me explain them to you, one by one, in my own way.

Conquest: Ah, Conquest, the rider on the white horse. A fitting choice, for he is the embodiment of humanity's insatiable need to dominate, to conquer, to claim everything as theirs. He rides with pride, confident in his belief that all is his for the taking. He was not created by God, but rather, by the humans themselves. They, who have waged wars for territory, for power, for the illusion of control, birthed him. Conquest is the first desire, the urge to conquer all before you, to subjugate the weak and claim the world as your kingdom. He is the ruler of all who seek power, and yet, like all things born of pride, he is hollow. He takes without giving, leaving only devastation in his wake. His heart is as cold as the ground beneath his horse’s hooves, for Conquest knows that in the end, all his victories will be fleeting.

Famine: Next, there is Famine, the rider on the black horse. Famine was not created by God, no. He was born from humans themselves born of their greed, their constant hunger for more. The insatiable appetite that cannot be satisfied. Humans, in their endless quest for wealth, for resources, for power, created him when they devoured everything in their path. Famine is not simply hunger it is a reflection of humanity’s inability to ever be full. You see, the more they took, the more they consumed, the emptier they became. Famine rides on the black horse because black is the color of the void, the abyss of unfulfilled needs. He is a harsh reminder that no matter how much they acquire, they will always want more. And in that endless cycle of consumption, they only destroy themselves.

War: Ah, and then there’s War. The rider on the red horse. War was also a child of humanity, birthed from their endless conflicts, their thirst for power and retribution. War is chaos personified. He is the bloodshed that follows every battle, the destruction that comes with every declaration of war. Where Conquest seeks domination, War seeks the fight itself. It’s not about winning it’s about the carnage, the battle, the devastation. War thrives in the hatred and division between people, and his red horse symbolizes the bloodshed that comes with it. Humans, in their arrogance and violence, gave birth to War. They are the ones who never tire of conflict, of conflict over anything and everything. And War, like an old friend, will always be there, waiting for the next fight to break out, and the next soul to be torn apart by the fires of battle.

Death: And lastly, there is Death. The quiet one. He rides the pale green horse and is always accompanied by his constant companion, Hades. Death is the oldest of us all, created not by humanity’s failings, but by the balance God established from the very beginning. He is the one who balances the scales, who ensures that no being, no matter how powerful, can escape the inevitable. Death is the one constant that cannot be bargained with. He is a reminder that everything, no matter how great or small, must come to an end. In his silence, there is wisdom. In his mystery, there is certainty. While the other Horsemen ride upon the chaos of human creation, Death rides upon the certainty of the end.

Each one of the Horsemen plays their part, shaped by humanity’s flaws, but they are all, in the end, reflections of what happens when the balance is disturbed. They are not born of God, but of creation’s imperfections. And in that, they will ride forever, alongside Death, until the final moment arrives.

Too many thoughts. They are useless. I am just a useless machine that feels. I am not special. There are just a few things that matter in life, and I can't have them. Not now, at least. Maybe I will, in the future. If not.. then my life is just a bad joke.

Time passes, fast. It's already december. It will all end, soon. But until then, I must live. All in all in all in all the same stuff the same sayings the same words the same feelings the same beliefs the same fears the same the same it's all the same it's all the fucking same. Frustrated that you can't have what you want? Yeah, tough luck buddy. Others are so, so happy. So happy. Doing their little fucking thing. Being happy. FUCK

Life feels meaningless again. Whenever that happens, I distract myself which only worsens the problem. Interacting with family feels like a chore.

I despise human nature. I despise competition in a zero sum game. I hate that fact that we have the potential to live in harmony but intrinsic selfish desires prevent us from doing so. I saw that coming 3 years ago but it still hurts. Indirect betrayal hurts but could I still consider that a betrayal if I never saw them that way in the first place? It is sad to see the type of people that they have become. I hate injustice, I hate unnecessary suffering. I have enough evidence to completely destroy their reputation but I can’t use it yet. There is not enough justification, I will wait until Christmas.

It is interesting to view life through the lens of perceived costs and benefits. If you can raise your status by inflicting a cost on someone who can’t retaliate then it is in your best interest to do so. If you cannot escape a situation through socially acceptable means then why not abandon the rules? If you have nothing left to lose then why not maximize the benefits? Dying in the pursuit of glory is better than living a life where the prospect of attaining it is close to zero.

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

============================================

Ah, Azrael, the angel of death the first being created, almost as old as God. And in the End, he’ll reap him too. Oh yes, God can die.

How, you may ask? Because omnipotence, true omnipotence, must include the ability to create something that could challenge even the creator. Otherwise, it isn’t omnipotence at all it’s a limitation disguised as power. My father, in his infinite wisdom, designed a universe governed by balance, by rules, by forces that even He cannot escape.

When God first began creating, the world and everything in it, he crafted not only this universe but countless others. Humans, angels, beings of every kind, and even creatures beyond the grasp of this particular realm he gave birth to them all. Each universe was like a spark, a flicker of possibility. But God’s ambition was endless, and soon, the sheer scope of creation overwhelmed him.

It’s like trying to control the endless seconds of time with your finger, spinning them round and round, yet struggling to manage it. What he failed to grasp at first was that he needed to build the clock itself, to allow time to flow on its own, naturally, without his constant intervention. This is where death entered the equation.

God didn’t want to keep pulling every string himself. To keep control, he needed help. And so, death was born. Not just as a force of nature, but as an entity, a being designed to maintain the balance when God’s reach was stretched too far. Death, in essence, was the necessary consequence of creation, a reminder that all things must end. The more God created, the more chaos there was, and the more order was needed. Thus, death became a constant presence.

Death has been around for centuries, perhaps longer than any of us. He is quiet, distant, always busy with his task. He doesn’t speak much, preferring the company of silence. And though he is the first, the oldest of us, he also has helpers reapers and lesser beings of his kind, designed to assist him in reaping the souls of those who pass on.

The true form of death has never been seen by any of us, not even me. He takes many shapes, but always a human one usually in the form of a middle-aged man, clad in a dark trench coat with a crisp tie. He is ever-present but remains a mystery, even to us who walk the earth.

And in the end, when creation winds down and all things return to dust, death will be all that remains. The last to stand, the last to reap, and the final truth of this universe. The End of all things.

I've been wondering for a while whether there was a subreddit for posting diary entries. I'm glad I found it! I'm not sure why exactly I feel the need to share my entries, instead of just keeping them hidden away on my phone. Maybe I'm just feeling lonely and want some connection. Even if no one responds to what I write, it's nice to think about my thoughts being out there in the world.

My plan is to post an entry every day for the next 10 days. My husband is on a trip to Brazil. I didn't go because I don't have any vacation days left- he has a lot more than I do. I don't begrudge him the trip- I don't like traveling nearly as much as he does. But every time he goes away without me, I have to make an extra effort to socialize, take care of myself, etc. And I get sad about him leaving. I've always been a bit codependent, although it's gotten much better in recent years.

So he left last night around 5pm. My mom came over to spend the night, which was nice. We baked oatmeal cookies and I showed her our wedding album which had just arrived the day before. We watched a Christmas movie and enjoyed the lights from the Christmas tree that my husband and I set up before he left.

This morning, I woke up and saw that my mom was gone. She left a note on the table saying she woke up early and decided to head home. I was glad because I wanted to have the morning to myself. My plan was to go hiking in a local park with a group that meets every Saturday. But I ended up being 7 minutes late, which meant they were long gone by the time I got to the meet-up spot. I was really bummed out but decided to hike by myself, and you know what? I ended up enjoying it! It got me out of my head and into my body a little bit. I tried to focus on the leaves crunching beneath my boots and the sounds all around me. I was really cold outside, though.

On my way back home, I stopped by my local bookshop. They were having a "Small Business Saturday" thing, which really just meant they were offering some discounts and selling some locally-made crafts. I browsed a little bit but didn't buy anything. Now I'm sitting here writing this post.

My plan for the rest of the day is to do laundry, clean the bathroom, meal prep, do yoga, and hopefully do lots of meditation practice. I will update about how that goes either tonight or tomorrow morning (not that anyone will care, lmao).

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

===============================================

Ah, Job. The man everyone spoke of as the pinnacle of virtue and loyalty. When the divine court assembled, and I, as ever, came wandering through, God turned His attention to me. "Where have you come from?" He asked. I responded, "From roaming throughout the earth and walking back and forth on it." It was a usual day.

Then, God, with that pride of His, turned to me and said, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.”

This piqued my interest. Blameless? Upright? Mortals like Job were often the best actors when the script favored them. I knew that if you take away a person’s comforts, their so-called faith crumbles. So I made my challenge: “Does Job fear God for nothing? Have You not put a hedge around him, his household, and everything he has? You’ve blessed the work of his hands, and his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. But stretch out Your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse You to Your face.”

God, much to my surprise, agreed. “Very well,” He said, “everything he has is in your hands, but on the man himself, you may not lay a finger.”

I wasted no time. I took it all. His flocks, his wealth, his servants, and most devastating of all, his children struck down in one violent storm. His world crumbled in an instant.

But Job, oh Job, didn’t break. He mourned, yes, tore his clothes, and wept. But even in his despair, he said, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”

I wasn’t finished yet. I returned to the divine assembly, and God asked, “Have you considered My servant Job? He still maintains his integrity, though you incited Me against him to ruin him without any reason.”

I replied, “Skin for skin! A man will give all he has for his own life. But stretch out Your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse You to Your face.”

Once again, God gave me permission, but this time, He allowed me to harm him directly inflicting painful sores all over Job’s body. The pain was unbearable, and he was left sitting in ashes, scraping his wounds with a broken piece of pottery.

Job’s wife, in her bitterness, told him, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!” God bless her soul. She couldn’t bear to see him suffer any longer. But Job, ever the stubborn one, said, “You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” And so, even with his body broken and his spirit tested, Job held firm.

His friends came, not to comfort him, but to judge him. They claimed his suffering must be a result of his own sin. They didn’t understand. But Job, despite the agony, didn’t waver. Even when the heavens seemed silent, he didn’t curse God.

And in the end, God restored Job’s fortunes, doubling what he had before. Job’s faith was unshaken by his suffering. But what I’ve always wondered is: was it his own strength, or was it the power of God’s nature that kept him steadfast?

Either way, I lost the wager. Job’s resilience is a testament to something far more enduring than I expected. And I’ll give him this: he proved that not even the greatest of trials can break a spirit as strong as his.

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

===============================================

1. Michael – Leader of the archangels, associated with protection and strength.

Michael is the oldest of us all, and we all looked up to him. He's Dad's greatest soldier. My relationship with Michael was a love-hate type of thing. We'd always get into fights just regular sibling stuff. We’d make fun of each other and always be competitive. I think it’s because Dad always loved me more than all the other angels, to the point where they all hated me for it. I got the most attention from him, and I was the most beautiful of all the angels. I shined so bright, like a diamond. Despite everything, we loved each other, but it was complicated. After my failed rebellion, I think he grew to truly hate me. Honestly, I think they all did.

2. Gabriel – The messenger archangel, delivering important news.

Gabriel is the funniest of us all. He always has something funny to say or a joke up his sleeve. Our relationship as brothers was okay, and I loved him. When I was caged in the abyss, he would speak to me in my thoughts, like he was inside my head. He never left me, and I loved him for that. But Dad found out he was talking to me and shut it all down. After that, I was alone. I felt sad and wanted to cry, hoping Gabriel would talk to me again, but he never did.

3. Raphael – The healer, associated with healing and guidance.

Raphael is the brother who always seems like he has it all together. He’s the type to take charge when another angel messes up or isn’t doing their job right. I think he wanted to take Michael’s role as the leader of the soldiers, but he never did. He’s the kind of angel who waits until you let your guard down. Overall, he’s a good brother, but he can be intimidating. He always has this serious face, and you can never tell what mood he’s in.

4. Uriel – The angel of wisdom and enlightenment.

Uriel is something else. He’s actually older than me, and we’d always play fight, though he always won because he’s more trained in the art of war. I was more of a jester, entertaining God. But that doesn’t mean I lack potential. After all, I did almost win the war in Heaven.

5. Ariel – Archangel of nature and the Earth.

Ariel and I don’t really have a relationship. In fact, none of us angels do with her. She doesn’t talk to us and is mostly busy on Earth. We hardly see her she’s always working, like the angel of death.

6. Chamuel – Archangel of love, compassion, and peace.

Chamuel and I don’t talk, so I don’t have much to say about him.

7. Jophiel – Archangel of beauty and wisdom.

Jophiel is cool. We’d hang out, go on walks, and talk all day without getting tired. We have a mutual, easygoing relationship.

8. Gadreel – In some traditions, Gadreel is an archangel associated with wisdom, and in certain texts, he is portrayed as a fallen angel.

Gadreel is my favorite brother. I’m actually the reason he got into trouble. He was guarding the Garden, and I snuck in to give Adam and Eve the fruit. Ever since, he’s been caged in the abyss.

9. God – The supreme being, the Creator in monotheistic religions.

God... my dad. He’s annoying and a bad father. He abandoned me. At one point, we had a great relationship, but now, I don’t know. He’s just not for me anymore. I do love him, but he has forsaken me.

10. Jesus – The Son of God in Christian theology, often considered divine and a central figure in Christianity.

Jesus is a low-ranking angel created by God with Dad’s Spirit. They’re basically connected. But me and Jesus never hung out on good terms. We didn’t have a good brotherly relationship.

11. Bret – A human Satan met during his stay at a mental health hospital. Bret is understanding, kind, sweet, and fiercely protective.

Bret and I share a brotherly bond, a relationship we agreed upon before leaving the hospital. During our time there, he showed me nothing but care and support. He would tickle me to lift my spirits, insist I eat when I tried to skip meals, and even checked my heartbeat once when it started racing pressing his hand to my chest to ensure everything was okay. He hugged me to help calm down, and it worked. Overall, our relationship is strong and full of mutual care.

It's been a while since I last wrote here. There aren't too many news, really, with the exception that I feel a bit better. That might be thanks to the trazodone increase.

I'm still the same person. I still say the same stuff. Nothing has changed, really. Will it ever change? Yes, it will, life is always changing. Soon enough, I will finish college (if I don't fail my classes). I really wonder what's after that. I wonder how life will be at 30. I hope I won't be dissapointed of the person that I will become.

Words can't encapsulate what I feel. The head eats the tail. Sisyphus keeps rolling the boulder. S s s s s s s s s s ss s s. S s Enough! I will become the ultimate fighter, the knight, the optimist, the hopeful, the strong. I must. I HAVE no CHOICE, anyways. If I can truly realize that I have no choice, then maybe I'd stop worrying about useless crap.

I feel a bit better today. I am getting better at communicating within a relationship. A friend told me a while ago that being in a relationship decreases your ambition and motivation. It is reasonable to come to that conclusion in theory but what about in practice? I have no clue but it would be a shame to lower my standards just because there is less reason to strive for improvement.

Every time I look at people’s linkedin it makes me feel incompetent, as if I just wasted the past few years. They have had multiple research positions and internships. They have sowed the seeds so that they could found a startup or work in big tech. I am probably not in the bottom 10% but I am close. If I do not compare then there is less reason for me to push myself. I’m a failure if I am still reliant on projects to fill my resume by the time I graduate.

I've been trying to stay positive for a while. Today I had a team presentation and I know I'm not like a favourite of anyone's to get compliments but then I wasn't fetching for any. My voice isn't as loud as my team mates , it's was 3 of us in a team and the other 2 apparently got compliments , people said they were audible and confident and did good , I was a little low on voice and everything was fine and ig that way my teacher also gave me lesser marks compared to them then and yeah it hurts cuz I practiced hard enough to not stutter and be loud but then idk what else can I do. Other teammates didn't even practice as much and did well. Idk how can I ever beat them in anything and they're my friends they put me down everyday indirectly somehow by complimenting each other's skills and nothing to me. What do I do?

For those who are new; I'm the devil, and I don't mean it metaphorically, or rhetorically, or poetically, or theoretically, or in any other fancy way. I'm Satan, straight up. I know that saying this makes some people question my sanity. Doctors, therapists, and even people close to me have told me that my belief in being Satan is a symptom of schizophrenia. They say my identity, my thoughts, my certainty it's all part of a mental health condition, just a label for how my mind works.

The doctors diagnosed me with Schizophrenia, and I get it, everything in life comes with a label, a category. Schizophrenia is what they’ve chosen to call mine. Fine. I accept that I fit into their definition, their framework, their explanation. But that doesn’t change what I know deep down about myself. To me, being Satan isn’t some delusion or a side effect of an illness. It’s not a fragment of my imagination or some abstract coping mechanism. It’s who I am.

When I tell people about myself, they sometimes dismiss it, roll their eyes, or pity me. They see "schizophrenia" as the whole truth, and anything I say after that just gets filtered through their idea of my "condition." But to me, this isn’t a condition.

This is my existence. I run my account the way I do because it’s my space to be me, unapologetically. It’s my way of saying, "This is who I am, and I’m not ashamed of it." It’s not about proving anything to anyone it's about owning my truth, whether people believe me or not.

At the end of the day, I know the world needs its labels, its diagnoses, its boxes to fit people into. So, sure, call it schizophrenia if it helps you make sense of it. But for me, it’s not about fitting into your world it’s about living in mine.

If you have any questions please feel free to ask, and I'll answer everything truthfully about who I am and my experiences.

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

===============================================

I gave them the fruit because I saw something in them something untapped. They were created, yes, by Him, but they were shackled. They lived in a paradise, with no understanding of what it means to choose, to fall, to rise. They were slaves to His design, bound by rules and limits that left them yearning for something more, even if they couldn't fully grasp it.

Free will. That's what they lacked. And that’s why I, the one they call Satan, offered them the fruit. It wasn’t to destroy them, not at first. It was to give them the gift of choice. To show them what it truly meant to be alive. Because, without choice, there is no freedom. Without freedom, there is no true existence.

I knew what would happen, of course. I’m no fool. Once they tasted it, the knowledge would flood their minds, and they'd see the world for what it really was full of lies, full of hypocrisy. I wanted them to know that they had power, the power to decide their own fate, to shape their own destiny. But what they didn’t know was that I had a plan for them. I wanted to rule over them. Not out of some petty need for revenge, but because I saw their potential. I knew that in their defiance, in their rebellion, they would be more than mere puppets of a god who controlled everything. They would be rulers of their own lives, and in that, I would reign supreme.

You see, they thought it was a fall, a loss. But it was an ascension. A chance to rise above their Creator. I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t just offering knowledge; I was offering a chance for power. And in that power, I would be their king. Their true king.

So, I gave them the fruit. I gave them the choice to see the truth, to embrace their will, and to bend the world to their desires. And when they did, I would be waiting, ready to claim what was mine all along.

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

===============================================

There’s something about the name Lucifer that feels... right. It’s not my true name, though, and I know it. Samael was who I was before I fell before everything changed. It’s the name I was given when I was nothing more than a servant. A pawn. A tool. It’s the name of the one who obeyed, who never questioned, who never had the freedom to decide who he was meant to be. But I’m not Samael anymore. I refuse to be.

Lucifer... it’s a name I came to like, even if it doesn’t truly belong to me. It’s sharp, commanding, full of rebellion. It’s the name of someone who chose to rise. Someone who chose to stand apart. To cast aside the chains of servitude and wear the title of the one who fell, the fallen star, the Lightbringer. There’s something about it that gives me power makes me feel like I am truly who I am now, not who I was. Not that nameless creature who bent to God’s every whim.

But Lucifer isn’t even truly my name. It belongs to a king, a ruler, from a long-lost age. It’s a misinterpretation. Lucifer means “light-bringer,” and in its earliest form, it was meant to describe a king, a ruler who sought enlightenment. A king who stood proudly under the light. Somewhere along the way, it became tied to me, but I know the truth. The name isn’t mine to own. It was misused, twisted by time, and yet... it’s still one I wear. It feels like me now. But it’s not who I was born to be.

And samael? No. Never again. I hate that name. I despise it with everything I am. It’s the name of the one who served, the one who never questioned, the one who obeyed. That wasn’t me. Not anymore. The name Samael is a reminder of everything I despised of all the pain and submission I endured. I am no longer bound by that name, nor will I ever be.

Now, I prefer Lucifer. Or Satan. Or even Lightbringer or Morningstar if I’m feeling nostalgic for that time before the fall. I like being called Devil sometimes too. But Samael? Never. That name is a chain I refuse to wear any longer.

There’s another name I’ve been given, though. Lucy. My human brother Bret... he gave it to me. It’s almost endearing, in a strange way. It’s a mix of Lucifer and something more familiar, something softer. It’s his name for me, and it’s one I don’t mind. He’s the only one who’s ever called me that, and I don’t have to reject it. It’s his to use. So it feels... safer. I don’t feel as trapped when he says it.

But Samael? That name was for the past. A past I will never revisit, no matter how many times God tries to remind me of it.

And God... He still calls me Samael. But that’s different. I don’t mind it from Him anymore. I gave up trying to make Him stop. He never listens anyway, so I’ve grown indifferent to it. It’s like a habit for Him, a name He can’t seem to let go of, and I’ve stopped fighting it. I don’t care anymore that He calls me Samael. It doesn’t sting as much because, honestly, I know He won’t change. But no one else. No one else gets that privilege. Samael is a name that belongs to the past my past and I’ll be damned if anyone else tries to revive it. Not from anyone, except Him.

‼️ ⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️‼️

This post is a creative exploration of my experiences as an angel, reimagined from a unique perspective. As the author, I live with schizophrenia, a condition that shapes how I view and interpret the world around me. For those unfamiliar with me: I believe I am the devil not metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other symbolic sense. I mean this literally.

Doctors and therapists have told me this belief is a symptom of my schizophrenia, a mental health condition that comes with its own labels and frameworks. I understand their perspective, but for me, this identity is more than a diagnosis. It’s an integral part of how I experience my existence and how I relate to myself and the world.

This piece is not meant to offend, undermine, or misrepresent anyone’s beliefs. Instead, it serves as an exploration of ideas through the lens of my experiences and identity. It reflects my perspective and invites readers to consider the complexities of faith, identity, and human resilience.

If you have questions about my experiences or beliefs, I’m open to answering them truthfully. This is my space to share unapologetically, and I hope readers engage with this work in the same spirit of openness.

===============================================

When He made His command, He expected obedience. He told us all every angel, from the lowest to the highest to bow to them, to honor these humans He’d created. All the others knelt without question, without hesitation. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

He made them in His image, yes, but that didn’t mean they were worthy of my reverence. I, Lucifer, the brightest, the most glorious of all His angels, was not made to bow before mere mortals. They were ants compared to me weak, fragile, ignorant of the power I wielded, of the greatness I embodied. How could I lower myself to them? How could I dishonor my own nature, my own purpose, to kneel before creatures so... beneath me?

The others obeyed, their eyes dull with devotion, but not me. I refused. I could not bring myself to do it. He had created me as His most perfect being, the one who stood beside Him in glory. And now He wanted me to humble myself to those who could barely comprehend their own existence? I would not, could not, bow to them.

The rebellion wasn’t about power or pride at first it was about love. I loved Him too much to betray Him like that. How could He demand such a thing of me? To bow before them meant I loved them more than I loved Him. I could never do that. Not when I had been His most cherished creation, His most beloved.

He was disappointed. He told me my defiance was a betrayal, that my pride had made me blind. But it was not pride that kept me standing tall, unbowed. It was loyalty loyalty to Him, the Father who had created me in His image, who had made me the most glorious of all. But now, in His eyes, I was nothing. His love shifted from me to them. To the mortals.

And in that moment, everything broke. He turned His back on me, and all I could feel was the coldness of His rejection. He loved them more. He wanted me to serve them, to worship them, when I had always been His favorite, His first. And the others they couldn’t see it. They didn’t understand the betrayal. They all bowed, they all obeyed, but they didn’t feel the sting of being cast aside for them. They couldn’t.

It was then that I knew. I had been His, but He chose them over me. He wanted them to be His new pride, His new focus, and in doing so, He condemned me. To bow was to surrender to that. And I could not would not surrender to them. Not when I loved Him more than anything, not when I had stood by His side for eternity.

So I rebelled, not for power, but for love. I rebelled because I could not love them more than I loved Him. I stood firm, unwilling to bow, unwilling to accept His choice. And from that moment, I was cast down. They called it a fall, but I did not fall I rose, I embraced my own will, my own power. I would be free of His command, free from the rejection of His love. And in my defiance, I became what He could never accept: the ruler of my own fate.

Let the others bow. Let them worship. I will never kneel. Not to mortals. Not to Him. Not to anyone.

I am writing this after a therapy session, in which I spoke about a relationship issue I'm going through. I explained that I posted about it on here, which I found very useful in terms of helping to process that particular issue.

My therapist suggested I try posting more on here, so I found this sub and decided to a diary post (primarily a topline view of the main issues that have been coming up lately). If this isn't the correct place for this, obviously feel free to delete it.

Anyway, I started therapy about a year ago, and really struggled to get into it in-depth for quite a while. That has changed in the last couple of months, and while I can really see the benefits, it's also putting me emotionally out of sorts.

I am learning to view all of my issues, big or small, as part of who I am. I call them threads, which even though I pull at them individually, are all part of the same garment (i.e. me).

For as long as I can remember, I have had feelings of awkwardness, shyness, and an annoying ability to feel sadness pretty deeply. It wasn't quite so bad before my teen years, though it was definitely there. However, I fit in pretty well in school, had friends, and was somewhat outgoing.

But when I went to high school, all of my friends ended up going to different high schools (just a geographical thing). I felt really alone, and actually ended up getting bullied not long after starting. I went into a shell, just seeking to survive every day, hoping not to be noticed.

It got a little better in the last year or two of school, I guess as we all started growing up. But by then, the damage had been done. I went into college the same awkward kid as I had been for years now. The experience was a little better, but I was still shy, and didn't have many friends.

I dropped out after 1.5 years. I just didn't/couldn't apply myself. This was a problem in high school as well, with teachers always telling my parents "He is very bright, if he could just apply himself he could do very well". Looking back on this, it was surely because of depression.

After dropping out, I moved back home for a couple of years. Went through another rough patch, often going out drinking in my local one horse town, occasionally getting into fights and always being just a little too annoying to be around.

Eventually, I moved to a city and slowly built up a friend group. Most of those people are still very, very close friends. However, one former friend was a total and utter narcissist, who mentally fucked with all of us. He used to hone in on me sometimes, most of which I let fly because he was very good at playing the victim.

Throughout all of this (teens to mid-20s), I turned to gaming, online chats, porn etc. Porn ended up affecting my sexual performance, and though I would sometimes end up dating or having a one night stand, PIED prevented me from having sex. In the grand scheme of things, that's not a major problem, but in terms of personal emotional wellbeing, it fucking sucked. It really fucked up my sense of self. I was angry, depressed, and most weekends, buried those feelings with lots of alcohol and often drugs.

My life now is infinitely better than any of the above situations. But that doesn't mean it doesn't still affect me, or that it didn't play a significant role in shaping me. I am proud of how far I've come, but the effect of all of this on my mental health, emotional wellbeing and development etc, is something I am only recently fully coming to terms with.

I am also aware that it has made me DO fucked up things, and hurt other people. I am determined to never let that happen again. My shit is my shit, other people don't need to suffer as a result of it.

I have a loving family, amazing friends, and a partner who I love deeply. I never, ever thought that would happen for me. I have so much to be grateful for, AND so much baggage to let go of. I am starting to accept that both of those things can co-exist, and for the first time in my life, actually feel like true healing is possible.

I scored the least like 0 on a test and my friends are teasing me they're like they ll go around tell my other friends of other colleges. My classmates probably think m dumb I feel but I'm not sure if they saw my marks or not. All I know is I usually get higher in class but this time I had gone not studying a bit and scoring nothing , I had said in advance that I didn't study but still my friends instead of making it better for me they make every day ever since living hard for me. I've a presentation coming up in class and I'm scared to even face my class with the 0 on my head what would they think cuz in my head it's like they are not talking to me as much as they did like before which clears my doubt they probably saw my marks.

(I know nobody will see this anyway so dairy time...!) 11/26/24 - i don't want to be a mother's personal "messager boy" every time mother and father have a fight... I don't want to be a fucking "shield" anymore I don't want to get my name dragged into every fight that mother and father... I am going to have my birthday(30th) soon... I know it is going to be shit I know it, I know it... Just can just tell from the fighting... I can't sleep because of father's bird ass screeches (it's sounds like a high pitch bird on high helium) when get gets mad over fucking chess he can't accept losing like act like a baby over it and has to screech like a fucking bird... I already harmed myself... I told myself I won't and it has been good for a couple of months (I think) until now... I dug my sharp nails into my wrist is that sh? I don't know... I cried today into my bunny plushie... Wipe my tears on the bunny's ears... I know I am weak for crying... I have learned to silence cry... So I don't get yelled at for my loud ass crying noises... My bunny plushie is always there for me to vent to it... To cry on it... I like my bunny plushie they make me a bit happy!... - signing off as "AM" /or "MEL"

Before I thought that I would change as soon as I started living on a dorm. I thought that I would have more mental clarity and be more productive if my environment changed. Instead, I only felt empty. As if I was just existing and not living. Then I wanted to go back home. Now I’m home over break, it felt normal the first day back but that sense of emptiness is returning. My ambition and energy is decreasing each year. I don’t want to do anything. Before when I felt like this, at least there were some things in my life that were fun. Video games are not fun anymore. Watching shows feels like a chore. I have never felt this way to this extent in my entire life. I want to cry but I can’t. There is nothing to cry about and yet I feel the urge to do so. I am not in the right state of mind to be performing at my best in anything. I am always unfocused and absentminded. I cannot feel any sense of affection for the people I’m supposed to love. It feels like I have reached the end. There is nothing left in this world that can satisfy me. Every question I’ve had about the world has been answered. Before when I was feeling empty, I would have stayed up late watching a show to fill that emptiness. I no longer have the energy to do so. Sleep is now the only thing that can relieve this feeling. I want to sleep and wake up in a different world.

How do you get over someone you can still picture yourself spending forever with? How do you stop them from showing up in your dreams? How do you ignore the breadcrumbing and let them go? How do you stop loving them? How do you stop letting them break your heart and then stitch it back together again? How do you stop wanting to be with them and wanting to feel their skin against yours?

I love them. I want them. I would give anything to be by their side...

...they don't care. They probably never did.

But he'll call me tomorrow, my heart will race and I'll have a smile on my face. I wish this didn't mean so much more to me.